After the end, before the beginning

My mom died three weeks ago.

Is that right? Was it three weeks ago? Or was it two? I know it was a Friday, and today is Friday, but the time in between that one and this one was slippery. She died in 2020, and now it’s 2021. She died in December, and now it’s January. It’s almost her 78th birthday.

My mom died recently.

I got to be with her when she took her last breath. Because of Covid precautions where she’d been living, I’d only seen her twice from a distance in the last nine months. But in her last three days, while she was with the help of hospice, I was by her side. And then when she died, I took her to Chicago.

Friends asked me how I got her there. How did I know what to do? They were curious about the how, but nobody questioned why. It was obvious she’d want to be buried in Chicago.

My mom was born and raised on the south side of Chicago, and lived there over seventy years. She was a part of the fabric there as a teacher and an active member of the synagogue. She did her errands at the same places for years — decades — and seemed to know most people in the neighborhood. It was no surprise that she wanted to be buried in her hometown.

What made it really obvious that she wanted to be buried there, was that she told us. She and my father bought plots in an area of a south side cemetery that they helped the synagogue choose many years earlier. They wanted to go back to their people.

In this week’s Torah portion, Vayechi, we read that Jacob/Israel wanted the same thing:

When the time drew near for Israel to die, he called for his son Joseph and said to him, “If I have found favor in your eyes, put your hand under my thigh and promise that you will show me kindness and faithfulness. Do not bury me in Egypt, but when I rest with my fathers, carry me out of Egypt and bury me where they are buried.”

Genesis 47:29-30

Jacob told Joseph, Joseph promised Jacob, and when the time came, he fulfilled that promise. After Jacob died, he was embalmed, mourned by all of Egypt, and taken back to the land of his fathers. He was buried where they were buried. How did Joseph do all of that? The same way I did. Not masked on an airplane during a pandemic or over Zoom shiva, but with the guidance of experts and in the company of family.

And what did Joseph do after burying his father? He continued with his role in ruling Egypt. Running a country isn’t on my agenda for 2021, but continuing with my life is. Stepping into this new year, the words I’m choosing are: limitless, relaxed, and creative. They’re joining the ways of being that I chose a few months ago: trusting, proactive, and supported. That is how I choose to live. Just one piece of that is, though I’m rusty, first thing on the first of the year, I’m bringing back the blog.

This week’s Torah portion is the final portion in the book of Genesis. It’s customary after completing one book of the Torah and before starting the next to say the words: chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek. Chazak can be translated as “strength,” or as “be strong.” V’nitchazek can be translated as “and we will get stronger,” or as “and we will strengthen each other,” or “and we will be strengthened.”

Two weeks ago (or was it three?) I completed a chapter in my life — the chapter of having parents in the world with me. As I head into the next book of my life, along with the Mourner’s Kaddish, that reminds us that God is great, I’m moved to say: chazak, chazak, v’nitchazek. Strong, strong, and we’re getting stronger. What chapter are you ending? What are you beginning? How will you be in this new part of life? What are you doing that aligns with how you want to be? May we strengthen each other and get stronger together!